


To the Edges of the Earth

by Queenbeesknees



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Civil War, F/M, M/M, Soldiers, also Peter has a daughter, everyone is alive except Stiles' mom, i just want to give everyone fair warning, i made up characters for Derek's dad and Peter's wife, i swear there is happy stuff too, mentions of sexual and physical abuse on Derek by Kate, slave soldiers, this is gonna be a really long fic, werewolf torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:49:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenbeesknees/pseuds/Queenbeesknees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the existence of werewolves in the United States was revealed, Stiles was baffled by how quickly everything had gotten out of hand. California was an ardent believer in letting the wolves remain as they were. They weren’t the only state, of course, but they were still a minority. The rest of the country wanted the wolves to be tracked and monitored, even enslaved-as if America hadn’t already learned its lesson in that regard. The Union decided that they would go ahead and create a law making tracking cuffs mandatory for all wolves, and bi-annual check-ups in D.C. with every Alpha who commanded a pack of more than 2. When officials had tried to implement the rules on the prominent California packs, they had resisted. The citizens of the Golden state had stood next to their ideals and fought the bill-and the soldiers that were sent in to quiet the riots.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dining In

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story just came to me a couple months back and I was speeding along with it until half of it was deleted in a freak accident. I lost my mojo for a little while, but I've picked it back up and I'm ready to share this with you all! This is the longest fanfiction I've ever written and the first one I've truly felt confident in finishing. I really hope you guys like it and I look forward to any comments!
> 
> I'm not really triggered by anything but I know many people are so I tried to add as many pertinent tags as possible. If there is something you feel I should add, just let me know and I'll get on it.
> 
> Next update will be on Aug. 15th.
> 
> You can find me on Tumbr at queenbeesknees.tumblr.com.

When you have inhuman strength and speed, it feels unfair and cruel to be provided with, no, forced to carry weapons. Razor sharp claws and bone crushing fangs aren’t enough for the Union. These things must be reinforced with searing lead to properly put the Neo-Confederates in a state of fear, according to the superior officers. Derek sat staring at the dismantled pieces of his .9mm on the table before him. His body was in a designated Were barrack in northern Nevada, but his mind was over a thousand miles away in New York, where he’d last seen his family. Over and over again, his memory replayed the images Union Special Forces soldiers spraying his mother in the face with vaporized wolfsbane and dragging her by the wrists out of the room. Just a week after, they’d beaten his father with something that even now he wasn’t allowed to know about, but it incapacitated his fathers’ werewolf abilities and left him a bloody pile of broken bones and seeping wounds. Derek had been helpless to do anything for his family, until Kate Argent had introduced herself to him.

There was suddenly a loud bang as the barracks door behind him swung in and hit the wall behind it. Derek blinked and looked down to see his fists clenched and trembling on his knees. He knew only Travis would be in the barracks at this time of day, because he always disobeyed orders and left PT early for what he said was a necessary nap. Derek was obliged to agree with that, considering that Travis nearly ripped Derek’s arm off on the second day of training just because Derek got some toast crumbs on Travis’ standard issue blanket on the bunk below his. 

Derek blinked long and hard, willing away the images and the burn behind his eyes. He began assembling his weapon with his eyes closed, giving himself time to pull the titanium wall back down over his mind. 

“Aren’t you a show-off.” Travis sneered from Derek’s right. For a werewolf, Travis had no reservations about making as much noise as possible. Derek was almost convinced that Travis plugged his ears with something, just so he could terrorize everyone else in the barracks without any pain to himself. He was currently swinging his leg back and forth and kicking the nearly hollow trunk in front of him, while lounging across Lahey’s bunk. 

Derek’s titanium wall was only good for keeping things in, not out, and he was growing increasingly irritated. He knew he could take Travis in a fight, but he wasn’t in the mood. Not to mention, their superiors would rip them a new one and Derek was just now getting into their good graces. Sliding the last piece of his gun into place, he opened his eyes. He thrust the clip back in, made sure the safety was on, and slid it into the holster at his back as he stood.

“Oh, looks like it’s time for the weekly suck up. Hey, Hale, why don’t you bring some of that high class food back for us maggots? We all know the officers give you their scraps, little pup.”  
Derek didn’t do anything to acknowledge the other mans existence as he pulled on his black fatigue jacket and left the barrack, deliberately shutting the screened door carefully and quietly. 

It was early February and the sky was slate colored and churning. It felt as if the snow hovering up in the clouds was zeroing in on him. All the hairs on his arms stood up as goosebumps rippled over his skin. He shuddered and let the shaking throw off the worst of the cold. He knew the officers cabins would be warmer-more warm than the barracks by far-and so he picked up his pace. Their company had only arrived at Ft. Arnold a month ago, so Derek had no idea what Nevada looked like in the summer, but he decided he wasn’t much of a desert person to begin with and if all the winters were as dreadful and dreary as this one, than he’d be happy to never set foot in this state again. 

He missed his home. Not the townhouse his family had in Manhatten, but the large manse in northern California that his grandparents left his mother when they’d died. It had been two stories, possibly three if they had ever got around to clearing out the attic. It had been a beautiful home, white with black shutters, a bright red door, and 100 acres of forest. It was probably gone now. Either destroyed by warfare or homeless refugees, he would never know. Even if it still stood, empty and dusty, he would never be able to live there again. Aside from the happy memories that would clash all too loudly with the new bad ones the Hales had already accumulated, the Union would never let them leave the country. Derek was confident that California and it’s Neo-Confederates would win the war. He was not so confident that when they did win, that the Union would return his family as they promised they would. He had no faith or trust in the people who had tortured his parents and done God knows what to his aunt, uncle, sisters and cousin. He was just going to fight the NC’s for the 56th unit, designated for werewolves only, and when the war was over he would go and fight the Union for his family-granted he was still alive by the end of all this.

Derek snorted softly to himself as he approached Captain Argent’s cabin. Sometimes he wasn’t entirely sure that the war was what was going to kill him. Captain Argent evidently has a thing for him, but she also very evidently hates werewolves with a passion that surpasses the general hysteria that erupted at the species’ reveal. Captain Argent is the sadist type, so having a job of being in total command of 50 people you truly believe to be worse than maggots must be her dream job. 

Derek is invited to eat dinner with her and a few other officers every Friday night. It’s basically a chance for Argent to show off just how much control she holds over him. He’s nothing but a pet dog to her, one that she occasionally wants to fuck and more often wants to beat and humiliate. He doesn’t have the ability to say no to anything she does-at least he doesn’t allow himself to. Not because he’s worried she might kill him, but because he knows she will order his family to be killed if he doesn’t comply to her every sick whim. Travis may think he wants in on these dinners, but he’d be dead within a week if Argent treated him the same way-which is probably part of the reason why she picked Derek instead. 

Keeping his back straight and solid, he rapped on the door twice and waited, his face in its usual scowl. He imagined the dark skies made his pale green eyes even lighter, and he hoped they looked as icy and unforgiving as he felt. The interior door swung open and Captain Kate Argent smirked at him through the screen. 

“Well, don’t you look handsome today? I do believe dreary looks best on you.” She laughed, and jerked her head toward the inside, her blond waves swinging. “Come on in, pretty boy. I want you to meet some people.” And then she was off down the hall, leaving Derek to secure the door behind him and hang his jacket on a hook on the wall. He hung his gun with it, having no need or want to have it with him in this company. 

As he made his way down the hall, Derek could smell and hear steak grilling and broccoli steaming. He didn’t know if it was for his benefit or if they were all iron deprived, but they had red meat nearly every Friday dinner he’d been to. He had no real reason to believe it was done with him in mind, but more often than not, humans like to make bold assumptions about things they know nothing about. Humans always treat werewolves like they are mindless, wild animals and thus, they must always want bloody, red meat to satisfy their carnivorous cravings. Honestly, Derek would kill for some fresh strawberries and oranges. Not that he’s in any danger of contracting scurvy, but it would be nice to have something to clear his palate of the ever present meat and bread. He didn’t even have the option of snacking on long grass anymore, out in this god forsaken desert in the middle of winter.

“Ah, Sergeant Hale, nice of you to make it.” Second Lieutenant Bennett called as Derek turned the corner into the small dining area. Bennett acted as if Derek wasn’t all but physically forced to attend these dinners; As if Bennett himself hadn’t laughed at more than one of Kate’s vulgar, demoralizing jokes made at Derek’s expense. 

“Of course. You know I couldn’t miss one of Kate’s dinners.” Derek replied, his steely tone enough of a silent “fuck you” to satisfy him. He settled in his usual seat, to the left of Kate. The table was already set for five and Derek wondered if Harris would be present. As much as Derek hated all the officers, there was something undeniably slimy about Sergeant Harris and Derek quietly hoped that he would be absent.

Bennett smirked, unperturbed by the barb since he knew exactly what Derek meant. Derek exhaled quick and heavy out of his nose as he settled in his chair. He had an even worse feeling about tonight’s dinner than usual, which made him reluctant to sit down at all but he knew that Kate would be less than pleased if he started acting like a dog with its hackles up, so he just kept his back rigid and his senses wide. 

He could hear Kate approaching from the kitchen, her voice full of mocking laughter. “Chris, you know I’ve always been daddy’s favorite. You should know better by now than to try and get something out of him that even I can’t get.” 

Derek couldn’t imagine anything that Kate Argent couldn’t get, if she truly wanted it. She’d gotten the entire Omega company-named by her-and she had full and free range to do as she pleased with all of them. He was sure that she could be the President of the Union if she really desired the position. As it is though, Presidents have far too many responsibilities and too little time to perform sadistic tortures on men.

As Kate set a platter on the table, she was followed by a man a few years her senior with dirty blond hair and resigned blue eyes. Behind him, was a much older man whose whole being gave off an air of absolute power and domination. If there were Alphas amongst humans, this man would be one.

“Derek, I’d like you to meet my brother, First Lieutenant Chris Argent and my father, General Gerard Argent. I’ve already told them all about you.” Kate smiled down at him, as if he were her boyfriend just come to dinner to meet the family. Derek could feel the anger rising already, but he knew that if wanted to survive this night he’d have to rein it in quickly and harshly. He had no doubts that the rest of the Argent family would be as infuriating, if not more so, than Kate. 

Derek didn’t bother smiling, but he did stand and shake Chris’ hand. The man seemed lost and unwilling to even be there, his handshake loose and inattentive, and Derek wondered briefly whether he felt the same about werewolves as the rest of his family. He soon abandoned that train of thought as his hand was grasped by the General. 

“Sergeant Hale.” Gerard addressed him with a nod. “Kate has indeed told me many things about you. It’s great to finally meet the man of so many dinner conversations.” The man had a brilliant ability to put the real meaning of his words behind each cordial remark and Derek could hear Gerard’s voice ringing in his head, ‘Kate has told me all about how weak and compliant you are. And I don’t like it one bit that she knows anything about you at all.’

Derek gritted his teeth and nodded. “Yes, sir, thank you. Your daughter and I do spend a lot of time together.” He replied, trying to convey his own message of distaste at the fact. 

Gerard just stood glaring at Derek for a moment, his grip tightening infinitesimally before Kate chirped up. “Come on, daddy. The steak is going to get cold. You can exchange intimidation techniques with Derek over dessert.” And with that, Gerard released him and Derek sank down into his seat, somehow slightly calmed by the presence of someone he could read-even if all there was to read was hatred. Kate’s true intentions were always heavily veiled in sickly sweet words and smiles, and Derek was rarely able to tell if she was truly being nice at some points. He made a habit of always assuming she wasn’t.

Over dinner, Gerard asked Derek and Kate various questions concerning the 56th unit. Derek had been assigned a rank above the other wolves, in an effort to create a manmade Alpha. Derek resented that order more than any other they’d given him because he knew just how incompetent he was for the job-and so did all the other wolves he was meant to command. Derek was not meant to be an Alpha, not even among his own family. His mother was the Hale Alpha, and after her it would fall to his sister, Laura. He thought that the Argents knew that perfectly well and making him an officer was another punishment-a way of reiterating just how helpless and useless he was. 

“Have you had any problems with your men, Sergeant Hale?” Gerard asked, as he cut a square of his rare steak. Again, the mans voice echoed in Dereks head, really asking ‘Are you willing to report any unruly behavior?’ It was obvious that Gerard knew about everything that happened on the base, including the rebellious behavior of Private Travis. For just a second, Derek contemplated bringing that up, but then he concluded that not only would that lose him any favor with Gerard but his men would also know it was him and Derek couldn’t afford any more dissension.

“No, sir. They are exemplary soldiers.” He responded, carefully placing a piece of broccoli in his mouth. He’d been eating as little of his steak as possible at a steady pace, so as not to gain the attention of the other officers. Just the sight of the slab of meat was making him feel nauseous, and he wished that he could bring it back to the barrack. Not for Travis, but for the three betas that had latched onto him instantly. They were only children-the military determining that werewolf abilities somehow made up for age-and they deserved something good. He knew he wouldn’t be able to though. Kate watched him like a hawk and favoritism would only cause more problems for his company.

The dinner went on for another hour, dessert less tense than the entrée, and around 9 everyone seemed ready to head to bed. Chris barely spoke throughout the meal, unless directly addressed, and as a result he never spoke to Derek. It was divulged that the Argent men would be staying at Ft. Arnold for another week and be leaving with the rest of the soldiers on a mission to the Californian border. 

As everyone stood to stretch and collect their coats, Derek looked over to see Chris staring at him with a look of anger and sorrow. Gerard and Kate were already down the hallway, laughing about some werewolf joke Kate had told over pudding. It was the first time Chris had looked at him since shaking his hand, and Derek was wary about what the man wanted. The two men stared at one another for a moment, going unnoticed by the inebriated Bennett fumbling around the room. As soon as Bennett found his way to the hallway, Chris closed his eyes for a brief minute, took a deep breath and then looked back at Derek, the sorrow suddenly overpowering the anger.

“I’m sorry.” Chris whispered. It was too quiet for anyone else to hear, but Derek picked it up loud and clear. He was stunned silent, confusion breaking through his mask and furrowing his eyebrows. It was the first time since this war started that anyone had said that to him, and it was even more surprising that the first person to say it was an Argent. He felt his mouth opening to ask, well, he didn’t know what he would ask. He knew there were questions that needed to be asked when an Argent apologized to you, but Chris just shook his head once and turned to follow the path toward the door.

The sound of the door closing and Kate’s heeled footsteps coming back from the hallway threw him out of his stupor and he barely had time to school his face into a scowl before she came into the room. He cursed himself and Chris Argent for the distraction. He normally makes it a habit to be the first one out the door, in order to deter any more advances from Kate then necessary, but now he was stuck alone with her in her cabin. She also noticed the opportunity and bared her teeth at him-a smile and a sneer all at once. 

“How nice of you to offer to help with the dishes, Derek. Always the gentlemen, you Hales.” She said, hand on her hip as she watched him. He knew the mention of his family was intentional, but he couldn’t stop the small wince that went through him. Kate expected the reaction, and her smile was genuine this time as she sauntered up to him, pressing her body into his. She put her hands on his face, fingers covering the dark stubble he liked to keep there. 

He froze, standing stock still as she pressed her breasts against his chest in what he imagined she thought was appealing. “Aw, poor baby. Do you miss them?” She cooed, her thumbs running over the line where his beard stopped growing. He knew he couldn’t refuse anything she wanted to do to him, but he would never give her the satisfaction of an answer. Not that she needed a verbal one, because the slight twitch of his eyebrows and curling of his fists was enough for her. He vaguely wondered if Chris had been apologizing for this-his sisters sick behavior-or if it had just been meant as an overall regret for everything that had ever happened to Derek and his family at the hands of the Argent family.

“I heard your mommy has been kept in solitary confinement since you were recruited. Four months in an 8 by 10 room would be terrible for anyone, but I bet it’s worse for your kind, who always seem to want to run around like pups in spring.” Her hands were moving up, her fingers sliding into the hair above his ears. The thought of his mother imprisoned like that was enough to boil his blood. Not only was the lack of freedom enough to kill her, but that level of social deprivation was enough to drive even the most anti-social person mad. And his mother was nothing if not a social butterfly. She was also strong, he told himself. His mother, Talia the Alpha, was the strongest person he’d ever known and he knew she wouldn’t give up. As long as her heart beat, it would be beating loudly. 

He had begun trembling at Kate’s taunt, her words easily slipping under his titanium door, but his faith in his mother overruled and he sealed the edges with the knowledge that his mother was alive. He forced himself still again, and he could see the cheerfulness draining out of Kate’s eyes. She was constantly searching for new ways to break him, and when her psychological ploys didn’t work, she always went right to the physical. 

“Let’s not worry about the dishes tonight. They can wait until the morning. You on the other hand, cannot.” She looked at him with a glint in her eyes, her playfulness gone. “You know what to do, Derek. Don’t make me wait.”

Clenching his teeth so hard he thought he’d break them, he began unbuckling his belt.

He still felt the bite of the leather around his throat in the morning, when he woke with tears on his pillow for morning PT, the up and down snores of his company giving him a foothold strong enough to wipe his face and swing out of his bunk.


	2. In a World Worth Fighting For, I Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite a bit longer than the first one and that will continue. My story goes back and forth between some key characters but the primary focus is between Derek and Stiles. Stiles' chapters will be longer than Derek's. There is actually a reason for this. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and I always look forward to your comments. :)
> 
> The next update will be on August 21st.
> 
> My tumblr is queenbeesknees.

“I swear to God, Mahealani, if you don’t find that correspondence in T-minus 10 seconds, I will put Whittemore on cleaning duty for a month. See how much you like your best friend after he’s spent weeks cleaning up everyone’s shit.” Stiles threatened from across the room, his face lit up by the white of the computer screen in front of him. His eyes were flashing back and forth on it as fast as his fingers were on the keyboard. 

Danny snorted from the row of computers in front of Stiles. “As if he’d actually do it anyway. You may have the authority to tell him to do it, but you don’t have the authority to make him do it. You know that as well as everyone else at Ft. Seadris.” 

Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes so hard he had to close them. “Fine! But you know as well as I do that it’s been too long since the Union has had a go at us, and if we don’t find SOMETHING, then Jackson might be dead in a week, along with the rest of us.” Stiles said, this speech as much the truth as it was a motivator. Stiles knew that Danny was a good guy, and that he took his job seriously, so he wasn’t surprised when Danny’s smile faded and he started typing faster. Stiles may hate working for the Californian military, but he’d become too attached to the people around him to consider deserting, especially when a piece of information he could have uncovered could be the difference between life and death for hundreds. 

Before Stiles could really get into his work, a head popped into the room. “Stilinski!” A voice that Stiles knew all too well barked out, making him jump and hit his knee against the bottom of the table he was sitting at.

“Jesus Christ, Finstock! Could you possibly be any more disruptive?” Stiles grumbled, rubbing his knee as he turned to glare at the older man at the door. Finstock had been his lacrosse coach a few years ago, but when the majority of the population of the state of California had been drafted-80% of males 17 to 50 and 40% of females 17 to 40-Finstock had somehow become under Stiles’ command. Stiles didn’t want to have anything to do with the military, much less have a rank and authority over anyone, but his “excellent intelligence work” earned him a new title and bed-the latter being the better of the two, obviously. Finstock was just as Stiles had said, disruptive, as well as disobedient and so he had stayed a Private in the 3 years they’d been fighting the Union.

“Oh, believe me Stilinski, I could be. Now, get your ass down to Command before I get the heat for your tardiness.” Finstock ordered. 

Stiles glared even harder and stood up. “That’s Sergeant Stilinski to you, Private Finstock. Now get YOUR ass down to the barracks. If barrack 7 isn’t spotless when I come by at 1700, then you’ll be cleaning my shoes with your toothbrush for a week.” Stiles ordered. Finstock went red in the face and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He was obviously struggling between a snarky response or following orders, and finally he just glared and shoved the door open-hitting a woman walking down the hallway as he did so-and spluttering, he headed down the hall toward the barracks. 

Stiles found himself stuck between smirking and sighing, so he just frowned and adjusted his belt. He never was the military type, being thin and wiry, and fatigues did not flatter him at all. Their mandatory perfect fit just accentuated his lack of muscle. He missed his oversized plaid and jeans. He also missed lazy weekends with his best friend in Beacon Hills, eating dinner with his father over SciFi movies. He felt a pang of sadness at the thought of them, but muffled it with determination. If he did the job he was trained to do, then in a few more years this war would be over and he’d be able to see his father again-left in Beacon Hills as the Sheriff-and he would be able to get his best friend back-taken as a POW by the Union 8 months ago. Scott had been the real commander of their unit. All the soldiers had followed Captain McCall without a second thought, but now they looked to him as Scott’s trusted right hand man. 

Stiles didn’t feel up to the task but he couldn’t abandon the people who relied on him the most. He exhaled heavily, not quite a sigh as much as a steadying breath. “If you find anything-ANYTHING-you come straight to me, Mahealani.” Stiles ordered, receiving a nod from the back of Danny’s head in response. 

Exiting the Intelligence office, he went in the opposite direction from Finstock. It took him 2 minutes at a brisk walk to reach Command, and he pushed the door open without knocking. Since they’d sent for him so urgently, they wouldn’t mind his rude entrance.

“Stilinski.” The acknowledgement came from General Morrell, her fine, dark face inclined toward him. 

“Ma’am.” He responded with a nod. “What’s going on? Any news from Arnold?” Stiles asked as he settled in a chair across from a man Stiles hadn’t seen before. 

“Something like that. This is Corporal Camden Lahey. He’s had correspondence with his brother, a Union wolf. Corporal?” She raised an eyebrow and nodded at the man, who stood and pulled a piece of folded loose leaf from his breast pocket. 

“Wait. Do you mean Isaac Lahey?” Stiles questioned. A look of confused surprise crossed the Corporals face and he nodded. 

“Yes, sir. Do you know my brother?” Camden asked, obviously not used to meeting any acquaintances of Isaac.

“We played lacrosse together in high school.” Stiles answered, thinking back to the thin, pale, bruised boy who never looked anyone in the eye. He wondered if Camden knew about the abuse his brother had faced, but it didn’t seem like the right moment to bring it up, so he left it at that. 

“I see. Well, nearly 3 years ago, Isaac was sent to Arizona to visit some family. This was 2 weeks before the war and I’d gotten a call from our Aunt saying that Isaac had been bitten by an unknown wolf while hiking. That was the last I’d heard from anyone outside of California, until yesterday, when I found this letter under my pillow in the barracks around 11:30. There were no witnesses as to who put it there, but it is unmistakably Isaac’s handwriting.” At another nod from the General, the Corporal set the paper down carefully in front of Stiles. 

The handwriting was surprisingly neat, thin and slightly curly. There were just 4 sentences on the page, if you could even call them that. It read, “I am alive. Omega is under hail. Wolves don’t kill unless they’re hungry. I hope to see you on the 27th.” Stiles read the lines over and over, slowly making sense of most of them.

“Do you have any idea what those words might mean, Sergeant?” Morrell asked. Stiles’ head shot up and he looked at the General with wide eyes. 

“You mean you haven’t figured any of it out yet?” He asked, unbelieving. 

General Morrell smiled slowly, glancing up at Corporal Lahey with an expression that looked suspiciously like ‘See?’, before turning back to Stiles, her smile still in place. “Well, it seemed obvious that the 27th is a reference to the Unions next attack. Since Ft. Arnold is the only base in the Union that has a werewolf squad, then it’s relatively safe to assume that the attack will come from them. As for the rest, it’s quite undecipherable by either Corporal Lahey or myself. We haven’t shown it to anyone else.” Morrell explained calmly, watching Stiles expectantly. 

His hands were trembling at the idea of new information and the opportunity to decipher it himself. The prospect of finally being able to do something besides dig through encryptions elated him.  
“Right. Well, do you want me to work through it here and now? I think better while multitasking.” Stiles asked, leaving his hands splayed over the piece of paper to keep it pressed firmly to the table. He didn’t want his trembling to be noticed, if it hadn’t already been. 

“No, that’s fine. I’m having dinner with a few officers tonight in the cafeteria. Come by at 6 and you can fill me in on anything you’ve thought of by then.” Morrell nodded as a dismissal, already turning to the stack of folders in front of her.

“Yes, ma’am.” Stiles replied, folded the paper back into its neat rectangle, and handed it over to Lahey as he stood. 

“Thank you, Corporal.” Stiles said, and without another pause, he hurried out the door. He knew he couldn’t go back to the Intelligence office and his barracks didn’t provide anything in the form of work, so he found himself entering the base hospital. 

With the thought of possibly finding Scott in mind, he decided that he’d work best near Mrs. McCall. She’d followed them to Seabris after the draft, when his father was told to stay in Beacon Hills. She had refused to let him and Scott go off to war without some sort of family to watch over them. Stiles had been 18 at the time, so it hadn’t been as dramatic a turn of events as it could have been, but Scott had only been 17-barely-and Melissa refused to let him go alone. She’d gotten a position as a nurse at the Fort hospital. Stiles believed that keeping an eye on him was her only solace since Scott had been captured, and he tried to visit her a few times a week. She would let him restock the tiny examination rooms, if only to know where he was and what he was doing for even a small time.

He walked past the main desk, the nurses all knew who he was by now, and pressed the button for the elevator. Melissa normally worked on the 3rd floor. Every time he’d come here with Scott, Scott would heckle him constantly about using the elevator and make him take the stairs. He missed Scott, but he didn’t miss stairs, so he always took the elevator when it wasn’t compromised by those who actually needed it. 

The lines of that letter came back to him as he waited. ‘Omega is under hail.’ was by far the most puzzling. An omega was a lone wolf, a wolf that had either lost its pack or been exiled from it. Isaac’s letter proved that he was with the 56th unit of the Union, so he was with at least 30 other wolves. There was no knowing how those wolves behaved around each other, considering they were all likely either newly made or torn from their previous packs, but a group of werewolves usually got rid of the notion of an omega. 

The elevator arrived and Stiles absently sauntered in, barely remembering to push the round number 3 before he was back in his mind. Under hail. The omega was being attacked? By whom? And why? And who is the omega anyway? Why did he even exist? Stiles growled in frustration, rubbing his hands over his head. He’d let his hair grow out over the years, and he could see it sticking in every direction in the reflective wall of the elevator. The doors opened before he could fix it, and he exited, looking around to see if Melissa was in sight while making a half-hearted attempt to lay his hair back down with one hand. 

“She’s down in 317, Sergeant.” A passing nurse assisted, smiling as she glanced up at his head. 

“Stiles is fine, thanks.” He mumbled, already headed to the right in search of 317. The door was propped open when he found it and Melissa was inside, checking the vitals of the man in the bed and smiling down at him as he spoke. The man seemed to be talking about his toddler daughter that he hadn’t seen in months, due to her mother moving down the coast to stay as far from the fighting as possible. Stiles could see the sadness in the way Melissa’s smile kept faltering, sinking back down before she realized and made it broad again. He decided to step in, to distract the man and hopefully pull Melissa out of her own mind for a bit.

“What a flirt!” He announced, walking into the room with his hands in his pockets and a broad grin on his face. Melissa jumped and her head shot up in surprise, obviously pulled from somewhere else. The man in the bed moved much slower, each movement precise and painful, judging from his expression. 

“Shame on you, Melissa. You know my dad has been chasing you for years now and here you are, blatantly pulling this guy along.” Stiles teased, winking at the soldier in the bed. He could tell when Melissa came back to the present, because she got that look she had when he and Scott decided to clean up the ketchup spot on her brown carpet with bleach in the 7th grade. 

“Stiles, I don’t care if you’re a sergeant, a general, or the President. You better get your butt into that hall right now before I decide to give 305’s colonoscopy to you.” She threatened, raising an eyebrow, daring him to disobey. He laughed but sobered up to let her know he believed her and then backed out of the room, giving the patient a sloppy salute as he went. 

He grinned to himself again as he leaned on the wall outside of 317. He always forgot how much he missed Mrs. McCall until he saw her again. She’d been like a second mother to him his entire life and their bond had grown after his mothers’ death. She’d never treated him differently after it and she hadn’t tried to be his mother. She’d just been there for him and Scott. She’d been good friends with his mother and not for the first time, Stiles wondered how she’d survived after that year. Stiles and Scott both had Mrs. McCall and Stiles’ dad, but it wasn’t until recent years that Melissa and his father had gotten on so well. His father had the other officers, who had been like family even before, but Melissa hadn’t had anyone but Scott. Aside from his own mother, Mrs. McCall was definitely the strongest and kindest woman he’d ever known and he felt beyond relieved that she had decided to come to the base with them. 

Melissa exited the room and with her hands on her hips glared at him for a moment, but with one sheepish grin and raised eyebrows, she sighed and shook her head. “Sometimes I worry this war will change you, but you’re still the same kid.” She smiled then. “And I’m glad for it every day. Come on.” She beckoned with her arm.

Stiles beamed and trailed behind, glancing at the placards on the walls as he did every time he came. He still had no idea what they said, it was just a comfortable habit to look at the letters and not have a need to understand them.

They stopped at the reception desk he’d previously passed and Melissa grabbed some files and a set of keys. “I’ll be back in time for Mr. Hampton’s exercises, Sarah. You know how to reach me if there’s an emergency.” She said to the young nurse seated at a computer. Sarah nodded and went back to her complicated looking chart.

“So, I guess it’s safe to assume that they’ve given you a new and complex puzzle to figure out.” Melissa commented as they took the elevator to the 5th floor, glancing over at him for confirmation.

Stiles was unsure about whether or not he should tell her the details. He normally had no qualms about sharing his assignments with her, unless he’d been explicitly told to keep it confidential. He trusted her and he knew she could keep a secret. But this case could involve Scott, if he had been taken to Ft. Arnold as their Intelligence office presumed, and Stiles had no way of knowing how Melissa would react to potential news about her missing son. 

Melissa seemed to notice that he was having a hard time deciding what to say, so she just stayed quiet and let him think as they exited the elevator and went down the hall. She unlocked the supply closet and started piling boxes of swabs and gauze into his arms. 

“You have plenty to do today, since these rooms have just been renovated and need to be completely restocked.” She spoke, as if she wasn’t wondering why he hesitated in telling her his new case. She had to know it wasn’t a case of confidentiality since he always told her if he couldn’t elaborate, and yet she was refraining from asking. Stiles decided then that he should tell her. Melissa was a calm and rational person, and he knew she wouldn’t just jump on the next patrol truck and trek her way to Nevada. 

“We got a letter from one of the wolves being forced to fight for the Union. He sent a note to his brother who’s a corporal here. There was a warning about the next attack as well as some coded messages that I’ve been commissioned to solve.” Stiles blurted out, suddenly happy that the store room door was closed behind him. 

Melissa froze for just a second at the news, and then she nodded. “Alright. Is there any news about what Seabris is going to do?” She asked, obviously dying to ask if there would be a rescue mission.

Stiles shook his head and pursed his mouth at the frown that instantly took over her face. He spoke quickly to try and ease her. “We just received the letter last night-I didn’t know until just an hour ago-and General Morrell hadn’t notified anyone else. She wanted me to have a look before she makes the next move.” His words seemed to calm her worry somewhat, and she swallowed heavily and nodded again. 

“Okay. At least there’s SOMETHING to work with.” She grimaced. Stiles knew exactly how she felt. They’d spent months with no word or action. Ft. Wallace, 200 miles south of them, had been getting most of the fighting from forces in New Mexico. They hadn’t needed reinforcements, so the Ft. Seabris soldiers had been anxiously sitting on their hands until a new mission could be established. 

Stiles nodded his assent, and patted Melissa on the arm. “Yeah. And I’d say I have 48 hours-at most-to decipher this code. There could be any kind of message or warning, and Morrell would never allow any of her men to head towards Ft. Arnold without all the information she could get.”

With the information divulged, they decided to head back out and get to work. Abandoning the first coded phrase for now, Stiles decided to think about the comment about wolves and their appetites. Stiles knew that wolves didn’t kill unless they were hungry OR unless they were challenging their Alpha. He felt as if the exclusion of that fact meant something, because a wolf would know that himself without having to think about it. In the 5 years since it became common knowledge that werewolves existed, Stiles had made it a personal mission to know as much about the species as possible. Online research had only done so much, and he’d only barely worked up the courage to go to Talia Hale before war broke out over what should be done with the wolves. 

California was an ardent believer in letting the wolves remain as they were. They weren’t the only state, of course, but they were still a minority. The rest of the country wanted the wolves to be tracked and monitored, even enslaved-as if America hadn’t already learned its lesson in that regard. The Union decided that they would go ahead and create a law making tracking cuffs mandatory for all wolves, and bi-annual check-ups in D.C. with every Alpha who commanded a pack of more than 2. When officials had tried to implement the rules on the prominent California packs, they had resisted. The citizens of the Golden state had stood next to their ideals and fought the bill-and the soldiers that were sent in to quiet the riots. 

After the death toll of wolves and humans had reached a tipping point, the politicians decided that the best decision was to close the state off from the rest of the country. This was beyond state law limitations and thus taken as a declaration of civil war, and here they were. The wolves who hadn’t run or been killed in the Union had been taken prisoner-their families and packs held as incentive-and they were forced to fight against the very state that wanted them to have their freedom.

The last he’d seen of the Hale family, they’d decided to go to New York-another activist state-to meet with more family and head to Canada. He remembered their son Derek’s face as they’d pulled away from their house. Stiles had been hiding in the woods near the house, finally decided to ask Talia straight out about the more elusive werewolf knowledge. Derek had looked so angry, his thick dark brows pulled in a scowl that would make his Stiles’ father pause. Laura had just looked sad, staring back at their beautiful house like she’d never see it again-and maybe she wouldn’t. Stiles knew that 2 years ago, New York had submitted to the pushing of the government and given up the packs they had been holding in sanctuary. There had been massive fighting between the wolves and soldiers, who now decided that the werewolves were a larger danger than they originally thought and must be placed on reserved land to be monitored more closely. The wolves would never have agreed to being locked up, and so they fought for their freedom. There had been many casualties on both sides, the wolves being surprised at the new wolfsbane weaponry that had been developed by the Argents, a long term werewolf hunting and military family.

The Hale’s had been a kind and generous family, willing to leave the state before the fighting escalated to dire conditions, and they’d walked right into the very situation they had tried to avoid. There’d been a hailstorm set upon them as one of the most highly respected packs in the US, and they’d done everything in their power to avoid dragging anyone else into it. 

Stiles froze with his hand over the glass jar that held cotton balls. Could Isaac’s letter have been alluding to the Hales? ‘Under hail’ could only mean so many things after all. Stiles was reasonably sure that Isaac hadn’t been making light conversation about the weather in Nevada-which doubtfully had hail anyway, and they knew that Ft. Arnold hadn’t been under any fire from any neo-confederates in the past month. If it wasn’t weather and it wasn’t an attack, could he have been trying to tell them that the Hale’s were at Ft. Arnold-or at least one of them? 

Stiles couldn’t think of any other meaning now, but he couldn’t understand why Isaac would think that information was relevant. Presuming the reference was to a Hale, the phrase ‘Omega is under hail’-no, ‘Omega is under Hale’- would mean that the omega was something the Hale was in control of. But as far as Seabris knew, the wolves were slave soldiers and slave owners didn’t give their slaves positions of authority. 

Shaking his head and making a noise in frustration, Stiles put down the bag of cotton and started pacing the small examination room. He went over the new information again and again, trying to glean anything else from it besides the Hale’s, but it was no use. His instincts told him that that was the right answer, and maybe Morrell wouldn’t be willing to give orders based on his instincts alone but she couldn’t argue that it was anything else. He slumped down on the rolling stool beside the door, sighing heavily and setting his head in his hands. 

For the first time, Stiles wondered if they should have picked him as their head of Intelligence. He was good at researching, but he wasn’t brave and he sure as hell wasn’t a hero-which is what many would claim he was if he figured out the code and the wolves were all rescued. He didn’t want the fate of not only his best friend, but hundreds of soldiers, to rest on his assumptions regarding a hastily scribbled letter. 

Rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands, he turned his wrist to see it was already after 5. 

“Shit!” He hissed, jumping to his feet. He had no idea he’d spent so much time at the hospital, and he went in search of Mrs. McCall to tell her goodbye. She wasn’t on the 5th floor any longer, so he took the stairs down 2 floors and found her talking to a doctor near the reception desk. She caught sight of him and finished up her conversation, turning to invite Stiles over. 

“I think I may have figured some of it out, but it only raises more questions.” He sighed. “I’m supposed to meet with General Morrell for dinner, so I’ll come by again tomorrow.” He told her, giving her a quick hug before turning back to the stairwell. 

“Stiles!” Melissa called after him, jogging to reach him again. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I won’t be working tomorrow. Come by my apartment around noon and I’ll make you some lunch.” She smiled, nodded, and then turned and left, not waiting for his response.

Stiles decided that trying to tell her he had PT would be a wasted effort. He’d seen that look on her face before and he knew that something more important than lunch was on the line, so he just shrugged and pushed into the stairwell. 

He headed to his own apartment, determining that the General probably expected him to dress in something a bit more appealing than fatigues. He passed a communications building, a window open to let out the collected smoke of 20 soldiers smoking and working at the same time. They weren’t really supposed to, but the officers overlooked it as long as they got all the necessary information on time.

“Teams Alpha, Charlie and Delta are in route 30 miles southwest of Seabris. The teams are escorting a supplies truck. They need a bird’s eye view of the Hassek Pass. Air support requested.” A female voice carried out the window, followed by a few other male voices requesting similar things for different squadrons across the state.

Stiles slowed his brisk walk, the Generals dinner forgotten. What if omega was a unit designation? It wasn’t likely that the wolves would give the name to themselves, obviously suffering from a lack of humor due to their circumstances, but it was common knowledge that the Union Captain Kate Argent was in control of the wolf squadron and it was also common knowledge that she had a very sick sense of humor. What if she had given the group of werewolves that designation, not only to degrade them, but to make information harder to obtain? None of the bases in California had any information about the slave soldiers except that they were the 56th unit of the Unions elite teams. And if all of this was true, as Stiles felt it was, that would mean that one of the Hale’s were in charge of the team. That would certainly work alongside Kate Argent’s twisted tendencies, making one of the members of one of the country’s most prominent packs lead her army of slaves. 

Finally feeling like he was on to something for the first time in months, Stiles ran straight to the Generals lodging, disregarding better clothes in the light of his recent revelations. He arrived just in time to sit down next to a colonel in full uniform. He huffed in and out heavily, fanning himself with the napkin next to his plate. They could all look at him like he was a nasty stain on their sheets, but he knew something that would finally give them orders to give their men and so he grinned to himself and sat through the dinner, making jokes and dirty comments when the opportunity arose. Morrell knew he had something, but it was obvious from her patience that she still didn’t want the letter to be revealed. Just as well to Stiles, since he still had some to decipher and was in no mood to have his discoveries questioned by a table full of puffed up, decorated peacocks.

After dinner he’d explain his findings to the General, continue his investigation, and make sure to check in on Finstock, who he knew would be spitting angry at having to wait for Stiles to observe his perfect cleaning job. He’d give Finstock a pat on the back, a ‘Good work, Private.’ and then send the older man to have all Stiles’ fatigues and uniform dry cleaned. All in a day’s work.


	3. Family to Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> So, I'm really happy about all the attention this story has gotten! I wish I could tell you how many chapters there will be but since I haven't written them ALL yet, I can't. I just hope you'll all stay with it until the end. 
> 
> So, this is the last "long" chapter for about 2 weeks. In a few days I'm going to post a special little chapter to hold you all over until I've settled in England. I'm going abroad on the 27th and I am going to Wolf's Bane as well, so I'll be a bit too busy that week to update. But I assure you! There will be an update after that. Probably around Sept. 4th. 
> 
> I really hope that isn't TOO bad. :)
> 
> Anyway, here you are! Enjoy and please let me know what you think!
> 
> Come visit me on tumblr! My url is the same as my username here. :D

Standing in the shadow of the darkened mess hall, scowling at three all-but-teenagers, Derek felt ridiculously like a father. 

“What were you thinking?!” He hissed, watching as Erica and Boyd flinched on either side of Isaac. The curly haired man looked down at his feet, following the example of his friends. His hands curled into fists at his sides and the muscle in his jaw ticked.

“I was thinking that I wanted to give my brother fair warning. That I wanted him to know that I was alive before I die fighting him.” Isaac said, looking up at Derek, his eyes pleading for Derek to understand. And Derek DID understand. If he had had any notion of what was coming to his family in New York, he never would have let them go. But as much as Derek understood, he knew that he couldn’t let the trio think that it was okay to just start leaving the compound. He had no idea how Isaac got out in the first place, and he wasn’t going to ask, but it needed to be known that it wasn’t going to happen again. 

“How do you think your brother would have felt when he found out that you died while trying to contact him? You think he’d be grateful?” Derek questioned, and Isaac’s head lowered again, his body trembling slightly. Derek just stood staring the three of them down, waiting for a reply to his rhetorical question.

“I’m sorry.” Isaac finally mumbled, the tension leeching out of him with the words. Derek sighed and put a hand to his own forehead. 

“I know I’m not much, but I can still do more here than I can with you out there somewhere. You need to start trusting me.” Derek said, instantly wondering if they did need to trust him after all. Isaac had managed to get out of the base all on his own, only telling Boyd and Erica what he was doing because he knew they wouldn’t stop him. Isaac had managed to do what Derek hadn’t even attempted in 3 years. He suddenly felt cowardly and tired, so he just pointed a hand in the direction of the barracks without looking at any of them. 

As they slinked away, Derek sighed deeper than before. He was emotionally drained from the last 24 hours. He’d stayed up all night the night before after a rigorous day of training. After realizing that Isaac wasn’t returning to the barracks from dinner, Derek had searched all of the base that the wolves had access to. He couldn’t find a trace of Isaac, so he’d went straight to Erica and Boyd. It didn’t take long to pull the truth out of them, and Derek had stood and paced for a long time, trying not to think of all the things that could have already gone wrong in Isaac’s plan. 

He’d made Erica write down their explanation, not trusting any of the other wolves to not go and inform Kate of what was happening. He forced himself to stay quiet, refraining from snarling at the two younger wolves. It wouldn’t help anything and would only wake Travis or one of the other Omegas. Boyd and Erica had tried to stay up with him, anxious to see their friend safe, but they both fell asleep a couple of hours before morning call. Derek thought about waking them up, to make them wait it out with him, but the sight of Erica’s thin, pale hand cradled in Boyd’s larger, dark one on the floor between their bunks gave him pause, and with a scowl he’d went back to standing near the window, sniffing periodically in the hopes of catching Isaac’s scent. 

Isaac still hadn’t shown up when it was time for them to start the day, but then he’d strolled in to the mess hall at breakfast and sat down at their table as if he’d been there the whole time. Boyd and Erica had visibly brightened and relaxed, but Derek stiffened, settling a glare straight at the tall man. 

Isaac had looked sheepish, but he also had an unmistakable air of triumph about him. He’d opened his mouth to console Derek, but Derek had just held up a hand and waved it off until later, when they could talk privately. Derek had waited anxiously all day for the fall out; for someone to realize what Isaac had done and tell Kate about it, but nothing happened. 

So here he was, hiding in the shadow that he’d dismissed the trio from, desperate for some way to dispel the worry that had built up over him all night and day. They’d had firearms practice for most of the day, so he’d had no opportunity to do anything physically demanding. He decided then that he needed to move. So, heedless of the curfew, he set out for the obstacle field. He felt as if he would snap at any second from just the slightest provocation. His muscles were jittery under his skin and he knew that if anyone came upon him right now, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from ripping them to shreds.

Making it to the field, Derek paused before stepping under the darkness cast by the Wall. He stared up at the moon, letting himself bask in its light for just a few seconds. A waxing gibbous moon. Only a few days from now, the entire 56th unit would be sent into battle. This would be their first attack on the massive Californian base Seabris and it was understood by their commanders’ most recent behavior during training, that the wolves were expected to die in the taking of the base. Derek wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand, he wouldn’t mind dying and escaping all the horrors the world had dumped on him. He thought it would be relaxing to finally be free of the ever present fear and anger that throbbed in his head and weighed down his shoulders. A few times, early in their dealings, Derek had contemplated just letting go when Kate got into one of her particularly happy moods. But then, he’d realize that he could never give her the satisfaction of killing him and so he’d fight on, struggling each time afterwards to forget the feel of her warm body seducing his to arousal again and again just to take it away with pain.

Turning, Derek stepped out of the moonlight and back into the shadows. Yes, he’d thought about dying but he’d also realized that it wasn’t an option-not with his family’s lives still on the line. He knew that he only had the Union’s word to go on, but he believed that they were still alive. He had to believe. He had to keep going. He’d thought many times about how selfish it was to keep them alive when they were probably being tortured, but just the thought of them somehow being set free made him realize that he was their only hope. He had no one else to rely on in this war. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd were just children really and as much as his mother and father undoubtedly appreciate what the Californian’s were doing, Derek had no cause to rely on their intervention. California was holding its own in this war but they weren’t excelling. At the pace it was all moving, the war would rage on for 3 more years and there was no way Derek could let his family stay locked away that much longer.

Pushing those thoughts away, Derek turned from the moon and paced over to the Wall. The Wall was a 50ft by 100ft structure made from oak and mountain ash. There were no ropes or net ladders to assist climbing. The wolves were trained to climb it by hand with no equipment. They also had to learn to avoid the random slabs of mountain ash that were disguised between the logs of oak. Too many times, Derek had made it nearly to the top and then been struck by an invisible barrier that knocked him flat on his back, 50 ft below on the hard-packed dirt. He remembered one particular fall vividly. 

He’d been at the top, about to climb over, when he was taken by surprise by a plank of mountain ash right in his way. With one leg trying to go over and the other keeping his balance, Derek didn’t have any leverage against the invisible wall. He’d tipped backwards, twisting in the air because of his climbing angle, and found himself on the ground seconds later with a burning wrist and what felt like an anvil on his chest. Kate had been on the sidelines talking to an officer about something, but at his tumble, she’d practically skipped over. She had leered down at him as his struggled to pull oxygen into his lungs. Right as he managed a tiny, blessed breath, Kate had plopped down right on his chest, her knees pushing so hard on his collar bones that he thought he’d have more bones to mend, if she didn’t suffocate him first. But it turned out that she didn’t have any intention of killing him. She just watched gleefully as he tried to lift her with his ribs, anything to get some air. Right when he thought he was going to pass out, she had jumped up, laughing down at him like a child laughing at an ant dying under its magnifying glass. 

“Looks like you CAN die like a human after all. How’s it feel to be humanized by a piece of wood and a woman?” She had jeered and cackled, the other officers following suit. The other wolves falling to the ground next to Derek had dutifully ignored the entire situation. They knew that Derek was Kate’s only interest among them, but they also knew that she wouldn’t hesitate to bring her wrath down upon any of them that caught her attention. 

Derek had stayed still on the ground, not even moving his stinging wrist from beneath himself so that it could heal properly. He had kept staring up at her as he took in each breathe, silently laughing at her because he WAS breathing. He would keep breathing until he was sure his family was either dead or safe from her. She had eventually gotten bored with him and left the Wall and then Derek had made it completely up, over, and down the other side of the Wall for the first time. 

Now, three years later, doing just that was easy. All of the wolves could make the climb now, learning to sense the miniscule push-back of the mountain ash in just seconds. There was no way of memorizing where all the pieces were because the Fort changed them every few weeks. Now, the real challenge was making the climb and descent in record time. Malvis currently held the fastest time, making the entire thing in just a minute. Derek wasn’t far behind that but he couldn’t think of anything else to do to alleviate his restlessness-outside of killing Kate Argent-and so he settled for beating his current record.

The easy climb and the cold weather kept Derek from sweating. An hour later and 30 seconds faster on his record, Derek still didn’t feel satisfied. The Wall was too easy an obstacle to really challenge his need to push himself. Jumping down from the descent side of the Wall, Derek paused to check for patrols. He’d done so periodically while he climbed, just to make sure he didn’t get caught out of the barracks after curfew. Glancing around, his attention was caught by one of the newer obstacles Kate had devised to test the wolves. A few hundred yards from the Wall stood a 100ft column in stark relief against the silvery gleam of clouds before moonlight. He’d only had a chance to attempt the thing once when it had first been put up. 

The obstacle was a massive redwood plucked from the forest in its infancy and trimmed to just a trunk. As he approached it, Derek noticed that the red gleam it usually had in the day had been transformed to a shining lavender, barely perceptible in the weak light. The trunk was treated weekly with a thick resin that hardened to nearly the consistency of the wood itself. The resin was to protect the tree, since the point of the obstacle was for the wolves to climb the entire thing with just claws. Derek assumed that with all the climbing training they’d received in the past few months, that there was a massive wall at Ft. Seabris that they were expected to scale. 

Approaching the Tower, Derek wondered if he could see beyond the compound from the top. The first time he’d climbed up, he had been surrounded by other wolves from the unit and had to go back down just as soon as he was up. This time he intended to enjoy the view. 

Unsheathing his claws, Derek shucked off his jacket and tossed it to the ground. It would only be in the way during a climb this sensitive. Reaching above his head, he dug his claws in at an angle and put the opposite boot flat against the trunk. He pushed himself up with his leg while pulling with his arm and managed to get himself onto the tree. With both claws deep in the resin, Derek was suddenly reminded of the first time he’d ever climbed a tree. His aunt Margaret was a natural and had loved to teach her nieces and nephew everything she knew. Derek smiled at the thought of her and started the strenuous climb. He would make himself stronger and he WOULD rescue his family, including his kind Aunt Margaret.


	4. Higher and Higher to Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY for not putting this little bit out earlier. I just got to London today and the past week has been utter torture in preparations. This is just a tiny little insight into the past I invented for Derek, and this is Margaret Hale-Peter's wife. She's probably my favorite OC I've ever created, lol. I really hope you guys enjoy, and again, I am so sorry. 
> 
> I'll have the next chapter up by the end of next week. My classes start Monday but I should find some downtime to get it up. I love you all and I hope those of you who like this story stick around for the end. :) I love you!
> 
> My tumblr is queenbeesknees. Come talk to me! :D

“Come on. Let’s start with this one.” Margaret led Derek and Laura across the yard and into the woods. She’d decided that they had had enough of the indoors and that it was about time they learned how to climb a tree. It was just an idea to give them something to do outside, but deep down, the two little ones knew that it was also a necessary skill they should know in case they were being chased by hunters. Derek couldn’t imagine any hunter trying to kill his Aunt though. She was the nicest person he knew. She was always smiling and laughing and she never got tired of playing with them, even when all the other adults had given up and gone to do other things. 

“Alright, little ones, time to pay close attention.” She smiled back at them, making sure they were watching, then reached high above her head and dug her claws into the tree, her grip going past the thin bark and into the white underneath. She braced one of her feet on the trunk and used it to push herself up so that her face was level with the hand still in the wood. 

“Now, you have to remember to use your feet. Even use your claws if you have to.” She flicked her toe claws out for just a moment to demonstrate, and then retracted them. “When you’re older you won’t really need them because you’ll be stronger and taller, but for now, you should use them to your advantage.” 

Laura flexed her feet in the grass next to him, testing her ability to extend her toe claws. Derek followed, wanting to be just as good at it as his big sister before they had to try the climb themselves.

With just one more reach-up and push, Margaret pulled herself onto a thick branch, her feet dangling and swinging as she grinned down at them. It was almost impossible to see her face without focusing in the dimly lit forest. Her curly, black hair blended in with the shadows between the leaves and her brown face like camouflage next to the bark of the tree trunk. Derek believed his Aunt Margaret was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. He’d heard lots of people talk about his mothers’ beauty and of course, their dad told her all the time, but Derek just couldn’t help thinking that Margaret somehow transcended his mother’s looks. Maybe it was Margaret’s easy smile, where Talia was more controlled. Whatever the reason, as a child, Derek told himself that he was going to marry someone just as beautiful one day. 

“Derek, why don’t you try first?” Margaret suggested, keeping her smile set on him. She had made the climb look easy, but being more than 2 feet shorter, Derek knew he’d have a harder time. Swallowing his worries, Derek approached the tree. When he pushed his claws into the bark, he felt the give and thought at first that the bottom part of the tree wasn’t solid enough to hold his weight, but almost as soon as the thought went through him the wood gained structure and his hand was stuck. Margaret noticed and cheered him on.

“That’s it! Now, put your opposite foot on the trunk. Yes, that’s right. Okay, now you push with your toes while pulling with your arm, and once you’re level with your hand, put the other one in.” Margaret explained all this with a profusion of hand gestures and a broad smile. She was more excited for him to climb the tree than he was. The rough bark was sharp against the ball of his foot, but he pushed anyway. He was nearly there when his foot slipped and jerked his whole body down, pulling his claws out of the wood and dumping him onto the grass. 

Even before he sat up, he heard Laura behind him cackling. “Ha! You’re too little for this, Der-bear.” She’d sneered out their mothers’ pet name for him and smirked at him as she walked up to the tree.

“There is no need for that, Laura.” Margaret scolded, jumping down from her branch. Derek had been seconds away from tears and Margaret seemed to have noticed from her perch. She walked right over to him and knelt down, blocking him from Laura’s view. 

“Is everything alright, Derek?” She asked softly. She had to know that he was uninjured, but she still helped him stand up and checked his arms and legs and feet and face. Slowly, through the process, Derek calmed down and Laura huffed impatiently until Margaret was satisfied. Then, their aunt had walked over to Laura and crouched in front of her. 

“That was not the kind of reaction you’re supposed to have when someone tries to do something and falls down. Especially not when they are you’re little brother.” Laura looked defiantly away from Margaret’s sincere gaze at first, but as the dark skinned woman continued, Laura’s façade began to crack.

“You’re supposed to be supportive. If he falls down, you should help him up and encourage him to try again. He’s under your protection and even if it doesn’t seem like it, he looks up to you.” At this, Margaret looked over apologetically at Derek like she’d revealed one of his secrets. Laura was close to tears at this point, her arrogance and anger washed away instantly by Aunt Margaret’s calm kindness. 

“Alright? I know you understand, because you’re such a smart young woman.” Then Margaret stood, leaned down to kiss Laura’s forehead, and smiled softly at the little girls’ tear-streaked face. Petting her hair once, Margaret left Laura to her tears and went back to Derek.

“Would you like to try again, darling?” Aunt Margaret asked, setting a hand on his head and smoothing his dark hair over while she waited for him to decide. Derek glanced over at his older sister and then back at the tree. 

“Okay.” He responded, walking from under his aunts’ hand. Derek made sure to let his toe claws out this time before starting the climb. Once he’d put his claws into the tree, he pushed with his feet and tried to get his toe claws through the bark. He was almost level when his toe claws slipped out, the bark beneath his toes crumbling. He couldn’t help letting out a desperate “No!” before he was yanked down by gravity once again. He scrunched his eyes closed, waiting for the impact of the ground, but it never came. Derek opened his eyes and looked down to see the top of Laura’s head. As he was falling, she had raced forward and caught him on her shoulders. 

“Stop staring at me and start climbing! You’re heavy.” Laura grumbled, climbing over the tree’s roots to get closer to the trunk. 

Derek just replied with a stunned “Okay.” and began climbing again.

“And this time, make sure your toe claws are in as deep at your others. The bark isn’t strong enough to hold you. Unlike me.” Laura instructed, and although Derek couldn’t see her, he knew she was smirking. 

Derek finally managed to climb all the way to the branch that Margaret had been on and he beamed down at his aunt and sister, his little feet dangling six feet above Laura’s head. Margaret had been so happy for him, cheering and yelling like he’d just won a marathon. Laura hadn’t even looked at him since he made it, she just made her way to the trunk and started her climb, careful to avoid the spots where Derek and Margaret’s claws had already weakened the wood. She made it much further than Derek had on his first try, but then one of her hands wasn’t in as deep as she thought and she scrambled to find a hand hold. 

“Come on, Laura! You can do it!” Derek cheered along with Aunt Margaret until Laura found her grip again and started moving up. Once Laura was settled next to Derek on the branch, Margaret bounded up to sit between them. They’d spent the rest of the day listening to their Aunt Margaret describe every sound and sight in the woods, from cicadas to the different types of trees. 

\--Sitting atop the massive redwood trunk in the moonlight, 24 year old Derek smiled at the childhood memory. He missed every single member of his family terribly, but the thought of Margaret and Laura sent a searing pain through the ever present ache. They had taught him almost everything he knew, from nature to mechanics, and Derek was certain that he wouldn’t be anything without their influence in his life.

Taking a deep breath, Derek positioned himself on the opposite side of the Tower and started his descent. He’d be exhausted for tomorrows training, but he suddenly felt more relaxed than he had in a very long time. It had become a necessity to block out all memories of his family, but now he realized that he just needed to keep them from everyone else. They were for him alone to bask in while he made himself strong enough to save the people who had forged him.


End file.
